Death by Fashion
by GenF
Summary: What happens when you don't forgive and forget? Karma bites you in the bottom, and you fall. Hard.


The flash blinded her momentarily. For a second there, she could see blue and silver stars in her eyes, but she kept her cool. The light was annoying her quite a bit, actually. How long more? she thought.

"Okay, darling, one more shot and you're good to go. Now hitch that bag up higher, there's a good girl," the photographer, Paul, instructed her. "A bit higher up the shoulder, that's it."

Za parted her Chanel Rouge Allured lips sultrily and pulled the classic Chanel tote higher up over her left shoulder. She made eye contact with the camera lens, careful to 'smile with the eyes,' just like she was taught to. And then the last flash blinded her, and it was over for the day.

She straightened up on her seat and stretched. Modelling was tiring. She wasn't as agile as she was when she started his gig at sixteen. She smiled at Mark, the head of the lighting crew, and got up to change.

"Oh, wait a minute, Za, darling." Paul called out. "Anna wants you to keep that bag. Says it's too 'dull,'" he said, rolling his eyes, fingers making quotation marks in the air. "Promote it, _ja_?"

Za was stunned. Anna Wintour, _the_ Anna Wintour, _Vogue_ editor, told her to keep the bag. People will stare! Za thought gleefully.

-

Walking on the Upper East Side definitely had its perks. Women stared enviously as Za tucked her new Chanel tote at the crook of her elbow. Producing her cell phone from its spacious pockets, she dialed for her best friend, Sha.

"Sha, honey! You'll never believe what Anna just gave me. Are you free for lunch at the Plaza?" Za asked, smiling. She waited for the reply that came soon after and hung up. Sha's going to be so jealous!

Za stuck her arm out at the sidewalk. Immediately, two taxis stopped for her. She got into one and told the cabbie, "To the Plaza, please."

The ride there was somewhat peaceful. The bag cheered her up tremendously and hanging out with her best friend will be the icing on the cake. She paid the cabbie and stepped onto the sidewalk.

"Za!" someone shouted. "Just in time," Sha panted breathlessly. "Omigosh! I lalalove your Chanel! Is it new? Oh, my God, don't tell me: Anna gave you this?!"

Wordlessly, Za nodded. Sha was so hyped up.

"Let's go shopping after this, alright? There are new dresses at Barney's I'm sure you'll love!" Sha declared as she led Za into the Plaza.

The waiter seated them at a table the hottest table; a table where you can see anyone and anyone can see you. Heated whispers circulated around the room as Za set her tote on the floor by her slim Manolo-ed feet.

Sha giggled behind her palm. "They're all talking about your fabulous bag."

"Sure, they would," Za shrugged. "It's not out yet."

Sha gaped at her best friend, but dropped the subject. "Hey, Penny got in touch with me. Are you guys still fighting? It's been seven years, Za," she said when her friend pursed her lips. "I thought we were over that? It's just a phase. And you know what?"

"What?" Za narrowed her eyes.

"She's right. We were immature that time. I mean, way to get so obsessive."

"Sha, you know I love you and all, but I've got to stick up for myself. I stand in what I believe in. I don't care if it was a phase, a cycle, or whatever. She mocked us."

Sha kept quiet. Penny's a bitch. Everyone knew that. Her temper was uncontrollable and she cursed more than a sailor on a daily basis when they were in high school together. But still, she did become quite successful.

"She hired me. Someone sued her of giving out false information in her magazine," Sha said.

Za shrugged again and folded her arms across her chest. "I don't care. I despise her. Still."

-

Za returned home to her penthouse apartment. She never did grow up wealthy, but with the cheques from modelling helped a lot. She placed her newly acquired bag on the many shelves that displayed her many bags.

Hermes, Prada, Calvin Klein, DKNY, Armani, Chanel, YSL, Coach, Gucci. All her babies.

I deserve this. I don't care about Penny or her suit. I don't care about Sha realising how immature we were. I don't care, as long as I have my babies.

-

"Oh, my God!" Sha burst into Penny's office the next morning, mascara stains running down her face. Her hair was in a mess, her clothes untidy. Penny got up from her desk and guided the distraught Sha to the couch.

"Tell me what happened," Penny urged calmly, stroking Sha's hair.

"It's Za. Her neighbor downstairs knocked on her door at 6am this morning because leaks were coming in from her apartment. He found her splayed on the floor of her closet, clutching her Chanel tote," Sha explained in broken sobs.

"Police said it wasn't foul play, no sign of forced entry, nothing. Natural causes, they said. Heart failure," Sha said, sobbing.

"Death by Fashion," murmured Penny. "Great headline."

* * *

_A/N : Hm. R&R, thanks!_


End file.
